I have learned that I am the type of person who speaks openly and constantly about the current interests, hobbies, adventures and details of my every day life. If you were to engage me in a lengthy conversation today, we will most likely discuss several, if not all of these topics:
The “Crevice”: The “crevice,” or the “crev” as I affectionately refer to it, is the floor space between the benches of our 2003 E350 15 passenger van. We are currently out on an east coast mini-tour for the purposes of playing some crucial festivals and showing some love to our favorite cities in between. Because it is a brief run, we opted to keep it real and knuckle up in the van. By doing so, we inadvertently committed ourselves to arduous over-night drives with minimal chances of effectual sleep.
There are nine of us in the van, two in the buckets up front (driver and navigator) and two per bench. Then there’s our Austrian tour manager/sound guy on the back bench, who insists it is his office and available to him exclusively. Now, it’s impossible for two full-grown men to sleep sitting straight up in confined van space. Our van touring experiences, however, have proven to us that one lying across the bench and one lying across the crev, will increase the chances of obtaining some form of rest.
The nature of our sleep-acquiring solution suggests an interesting exhibition of human psychology, individual fortitude, and sheer willpower. Obviously the soft, quasi-clean, and cushiony comfort the bench has to offer is preferred over the filthy, cramped, and sketchy environment of the crev. The shared proclivity for bench-sleep versus crev-sleep creates a never verbalized, but mutually understood battle of wills between seat companions. The one willing to endure, at all costs, the absolute misery of sitting -up-and-leaning-against-the-window-sleep will most likely earn the reward of hearing a glorious phrase of defeat — a phrase something along the lines of, “Dude, I think I’m going to hit the crev.” Only a broken, tired, and desperate man utters such words, and a somber reflection of defeat haunts him to sleep whilst in the crev.
Lost: After an exhilarating first two seasons and slow third season opener, “Lost” is back with a vengeance in the second half of season three. Methinks the abundance of excess time created from touring causes dudes in bands to get sucked into the whirlwind of TV on DVD hysteria. I myself have invested personal emotions into the lives of the characters from “Lost,” Entourage,” “Nip/Tuck,” and “Weeds.”
Spartan Abs: Zack Snyder and Frank Miller’s cinematic masterpiece “300″ inspired me to become a better man. It is not the idea of fighting for what you believe in to the death, but the realization that being ripped is severely sweet, which draws me to this film. The scene where all the dudes are marching out and every single one of them has a 24 pack changed my life. Since my epiphany, I have been thinking about how hard work, gym time, and careful dieting can help me obtain Spartan abs. I have put little effort into implementing any plan of attack, however, and that in and of itself has proved to be non-conducive to me getting shredded.
Blue Pit Bulls: I am constantly entertaining the idea of acquiring a blue Pit Bull. In fact, if it weren’t for my cursed touring schedule, I would own one already. As a whole, the Pit Bull breed is one of the most stable and safe dogs around today. The media, on the other hand, loves to blow rare horror stories out of proportion to sell newspapers and obtain viewership to the evening news. In those rare cases of attack, the owners are to blame, not the animals. Having co-owned a Pit Bull before, I am convinced they are the superior canine companion and their loyalty, intellect, athleticism, brutality and affection are unparalleled by any other dog.Also owning a Blue Pit Bull will instantly garner me urban street cred.
The Tone Within: “It’s not about the gear, it’s in the fingers.” Ex:David Gilmore, Dimebag, John McLaughlin.
Yoga: I’ve been the recipient of infinite jest at the discrimination of my non forward-thinking bandmates, in regards to my affinity for hippy-esque interests such as vegetarianism, flashing peace signs and most notably Yoga. In my opinion, Yoga is not only a useful form of exercise and self-realization, it’s also a way to obtain really brutal stage moves. The physical demands Yoga places on flexibility and cardiovascular endurance will surely yield astonishing results. I, myself, have obtained an increasingly extreme metal stance. Where once the distance from foot to foot was two-and-a-half feet, a steady routine of Yoga exercise has increased the expanse to almost three-and-a-half feet! While this may seem menial and insignificant to most, a triumphant metal stance really gets me pumped! Also, an increase in flexibility leads to an increase in headbanging ferociousness. Being able to spazz from the body (bodybang), versus the neck (traditional headbang), appears as a more violent and aggressive form of rocking-out… which is sweet. So while the idea of Yoga may seem a little fruity and non-masculine, it is in reality the single most effective form of metal training known to man.
Tenacious D’s “Pick of Destiny”: For some reason it seems my small group of friends and I are the only ones not only to revere this movie, but to have actually seen it. How so many alleged fans of heavy metal and rock and roll have never seen this movie baffles me. I’m not going to hype it up too much, but it was easily my favorite movie of 2006.
If you were to draw any sort of moral from my nonsensical ranting, it should be this: Don’t waste your time on stuff that’s not sweet because it isn’t worth it in the end… And keep it brutal.
